


Blood Stains

by SoraHinari



Category: Dorian Gray (2009), The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Basil's Death, Character Death, Dorian's POV, Gen, Murder, Regret, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraHinari/pseuds/SoraHinari
Summary: Basil is dead and now Dorian has the rest of the night to spend in his attic, with the body of a man deeply precious to him bloody by his own hands. [Possible OOC]





	Blood Stains

**Author's Note:**

> After re-reading the book and re-watching the movie I wanted to write a short fic about Dorian changing at that very moment he kills Basil, having doubts and regrets about everything.  
I do not really write bloody death scenes and English are also not my first language so sorry for any mistakes TvT or any OOC moments.

It was over. He has done it. His hands were dyed with blood once more but this time he could feel it. Feel the thick red liquid as it slipped through his knuckles and down his wrist, listening it drip down to the wooden floor with repeating droplets. The room was quiet, painfully someone could say. The only sounds were the dripping of blood and Dorian Gray's heavy breathing. His eyes filled with a rush of emotions as they traveled on the scene he had created. First came excitement, excitement from creating something new with his own two bare hands. Then came fear, fear of what would happen if someone was to find out. But then, then came terror, terror of what he was capable of doing to his most precious person on earth. Basil didn't deserve that, no, no he didn't deserve such a cold and heartless death.

The name of the painter softly left the young male's lips much like a whisper would leave them when he wanted to whisper sweet nothings that meant exactly than next to the ear of one of his lovers. But the whisper of that name truly did mean something. It came out rushed, chocked out almost like it was pushing it's way through Dorian's vocal cords. Nevertheless it was clearly the name of the late artist whose body lied dead on the floor of this dark attic. The silence that came after that whisper was almost cutting through flesh itself with how tense it was, but something broke it, a small creaking and that was when Dorian's eyes shot up to the closed door that now was slightly open. With fogged vision and shaking limps mister Gray stood up and ran to it, what he didn't take into account was that Basil's blood had spread throughout his attic's floor causing his black shoes to slip in the red substance and his whole body to drop on the floor. 

Pain was there, piercing through his back from how forceful and unexpected the fall was, yet the thing that hurt Dorian the most was what he came face to face with. Basil's face was right next to his, looking upward with wide eyes, scared, helpless and yet his arms were limp next to his body. Indeed, Basil Hallward didn't resist his death from this beautiful creature, he just accepted it and welcomed it as much as he could. Maybe seeing his death as a punishment, a punishment for loving Dorian, a punishment for not pushing Harry out, a punishment for never saying no, never denying anything Dorian wanted. No one could know now, Basil's interception of his death would be buried with him in his grave.

Shaking from his shock, with tears blurring his vision, Dorian let his body stand on his knees, his already bloody hands cupped Basil's face. Wearing a face of what looked like anger Dorian straddled the dead body under him, his hands moving from the cold face now to the yellow scarf Basil wore around his neck. Grasping it like it was something to hold on for his life's worth Dorian started shaking it, pulling and releasing it, and again, and again. He could hear Basil's skull thudding against the floor during the last pulls, that was the only reason he stopped, releasing the yellow fabric and hugging his sides, clawing them with his nails as his back dropped from it's usual prideful place. A soft sob came from those rosy lips and tears from those once crystal eyes that traveled to all the knife wounds on Basil's torso, Dorian's mind too occupied from all the thoughts that fogged it at the moment to care about the door now. 

Soon he let his arms fall from gripping his sides, softly traveling them up to Basil's own sides, meeting at the middle of his stomach, up his chest, shoulders and then soon back on his face, rubbing his cheeks with his two thumbs. Hypnotized almost Dorian let his body drop on top of the artist's, legs still left and right from the other's hips, but even if they weren't even if his body weight fell on Basil's body, he was dead, it didn't matter. His elbows now were dipped in blood that was surging out of Basil's neck, right above his shoulders, his fingers tangled in those black thick strands of hair as his lips got closer and closer. In his head Dorian knew he would regret this, regret kissing this man again, once was enough right? He had his experience, his sensation, why would he want more than what he already had? He killed Basil, he was done with him right? With those questions unanswered Dorian dove in and kissed Basil for the second time in his life. Feeling those once warm lips that kissed him back with fervor now cold and stiff, cracked under his, Dorian could sense his tears traveling down his porcelain face any second now.

Having the illusion in his mind that he could possibly have a response in his newfound questions Dorian kissed Basil again, with more passion this time, his hands pressing his cheeks now instead of pulling his black hair. When Basil still stayed still Dorian tried again, this time hands traveling down on the painter's upper body as his lips also traveled down his neck with eyes closed, not having the logic to stop even if blood was slipping on his lips, inside his mouth and brushing even on his nose, he was showered with it already anyways what evil could be done with a few more smudges? Dorian's lips closed around the skin of Basil's neck exactly where his heart once was beating, opening his eyes and kissing downwards before screaming and throwing his body back upon looking down at how deep the first wound he had caused his friend was. Blood was still bubbling from the wound, creating red bubbles that popped after a short while, spurting blood from them, probably from how deep the artery was cut.

Dorian felt sick, his eyes traveled around the room and upon spotting the broken glass piece that he had used to stab repeatedly his late friend his legs started moving again. First of all he did what he intended at first, he walked slowly to the door, his steps almost inaudible, careful as to not be heard by a soul if that was anyhow possible, and then he slowly pushed the door closed, grabbed the keys from his pocket and locked the attic from the inside. He needed that, needed to be alone, not found until he wished to be. His legs soon guided him to where the broken glass piece was, stained with blood still, some still dripping to the floor, Dorian's hands grabbed it and with sadness now changing to madness he looked at the portrait. It stood there, looking at him, taunting him with showing him even more rotten flesh and malevolent looks. Dorian dashed to it, tried to stab it, rip it to pieces, but he couldn't. He was a coward, he couldn't destroy the portrait cause it was already destroying him. Damn it all, damn this portrait, damn Harry and his stupid ideals that poisoned his mind. Curse it all, especially Dorian himself, cause he allowed all of this, he was already deeply cursed by his own naivety.

Looking up at his portrait from the ground that he was now kneeling in front of it Dorian panted and looked at the gripped piece of bloody glass in his hand before glancing back at Basil's body. Not even bothering to stand up, Dorian dragged his knees on the wooden floor next to his friend before laying down next to him and curling up there. His head positioned on the artist's chest where once the lullaby from his heartbeat was played, his hand tightened around the piece of glass piercing his own flesh, mixing the dripping blood of this truly beautiful man with his devilish one if he had any blood in him that is, because Dorian Gray was sure that his heart stopped pumping blood in his veins a long time ago. Closing his eyes and biting his bottom cracked now lip, Dorian shoved the glass shard into his forearm, soon sobbing not from the pain of the cut but from the pain of what he had done. His arms snaked around Basil's neck, his nose nuzzling again his cheek before placing a kiss on it, mixing the blood already staining it with the tears parading now freely on his face. Dorian stayed there, closed his eyes tighter, left his portrait look down at him hugging the dead body of the man he truly loved but not even he knew while he bleed from the wound he caused himself, mixing the stains, mixing the blood as in some hope of his sins would be forgiven, washed away by the blood of his truly most precious treasure. The young narcissist's lips parted to say only one thing as his grip around his late loved one tightened.

"I am so, so very sorry Basil"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reaching the end of this fic!  
Hope you enjoyed it!  
Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks are always helpful and appreciated!


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